Ten Years at Sea
by SD
Summary: Following Will during his first year at sea, with occasional glimpses of what other characters are up to during the same time. Post AWE. WillElizabeth: drama, romance, angst, all the good stuff. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1 Below and Above

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 1 – Below and Above

The moment Davy Jones turned and plunged the sword into his chest was over so quickly, yet a multitude of thoughts flashed through Will's mind in the midst of the pain. _How could this happen? I'm the best swordsman I know. How did I not see it coming? _

He felt himself falling to the deck, and could not gather the strength to catch himself. He saw Elizabeth beside him. She was upset. Of course she was upset. He wanted to comfort her, but the words wouldn't come. He struggled to maintain consciousness, but felt it slipping away. There were voices, but they were faint, as if from a long distance away. His vision was only full of Elizabeth. She was his world, and she'd be the last thing he'd ever see…

Will awoke to an eerie world. Dark and cold, flickering with unnatural green and blue light. It seemed the entire world was in motion, swirling about him. _Am I dead? He thought. Am I on my way to the afterlife?_

A gruff voice startled him from his thoughts. "William. Do you hear me?"

Will tried to sit up to find the source of the voice. His left side felt as though it was on fire and he collapsed back on the soft surface.

"Take it easy, son. You've got quite a wound there." And suddenly, he remembered. _Davy Jones. I've been stabbed. _

"Bootstrap?" He croaked out.

"Aye, son. It's me."

"Where's Elizabeth?"

"She's on the _Pearl_. Jack took her back before we went under."

_Under?_ They were underwater. That explained the light and the cold. But it was impossible…

"Davy Jones?"

"He's gone. Gone for good."

"But then… who stabbed him? Jack?" Will struggled to make sense of everything. The _Dutchman_ had to have a captain, and whoever stabbed Jones' heart became captain.

Will felt a hand on his right shoulder. He looked up, shocked to see that his father had lost all the sealife that had been clinging to him ever since he first met him. His face was pale, but clean. An expression of sorrow was etched across his features.

"William – son – you were dyin'. There was nothin' we could do for you. So Jack took your hand and helped you stab Jones' heart."

Will shoved himself upright, groaning as the pain coursed through his body.

"No." He whispered. "It's not true."

"I'm sorry, son."

Will gingerly pulled his blood-soaked shirt aside and saw not only the sword wound, but a ragged gash across the left side of his chest. He raised his eyes, and saw Jones' black chest on a table nearby. Nausea overtook him and he retched.

"I know it's a lot to take in." Bootstrap said kindly. "And I wish I could give you time, but there ain't no time. The _Pearl_ is in trouble, and we can't resurface without a command from the captain."

"The _Pearl_…"

"Aye, Beckett's still alive and well and wantin' to take down Jack Sparrow." Bootstrap paused. "And Elizabeth will be wantin' to see that you're alright."

"I don't know if I'd call this alright," Will said hoarsely.

"Nevertheless, the _Dutchman_ needs her captain. Are you sound enough for command?"

"I guess I'll have to be if Elizabeth is in danger." He struggled to his feet and stood to face his father. "Tell me what I need to do."

Will followed his father to the upper deck, passing many crewmembers on the way. Like Bootstrap, they had all lost their monstrous appearances and looked like men again. Most of them removed their hats in respect as their new captain passed by. When Will reached the upper deck, he was shocked to discover that the ship itself seemed to have been reborn as well. The barnacles, seaweed and slime that had covered the ship and sails had vanished.

Bootstrap read his son's reaction. "Aye, she's restored to her former glory." He said quietly. "And it's all thanks to you, my boy."

"I didn't do anything." Will said bitterly.

"Maybe not," Bootstrap said agreeably. "Maybe it's just your presence."

Will sighed deeply, feeling intense pain as he did so. "Let's just do what we have to do to save The _Pearl_."

Will took up a position near the bow. He grasped the rigging, not sure what to expect as they surfaced. He looked questioningly at his father.

"Ask the crew to bring 'er up, Captain Turner." Bootstrap responded, beaming at the phrase _Captain Turner_.

Will nodded. "Bring her up and prepare the cannons. We've got another battle to fight."

The crew stared at him but didn't move.

"Are you all deaf and dumb?" Bootstrap shouted. "Listen to your new captain and take this ship topside!"

The crew jumped into action. The ship began to rise quickly. Soon the waves were breaking over the deck as they burst onto the surface. Will felt the sun shining warmly on his body, and heaved a sigh of relief. His wounds twinged painfully, but it was not as agonizing as before.

Will gazed across the brilliant water and saw Beckett's ship, The _Endeavor_, closing in on the _Pearl_.

"The _Pearl_'s in rough shape." Bootstrap commented. "She'll not be able to take Beckett down herself."

"Bring us alongside the _Endeavor_. We'll trap Beckett between us and take him down."

"Aye, Captain Turner."

Will grasped the rigging tightly as they sped toward the two ships. His gaze searched the deck of the _Pearl_, hoping to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth. And suddenly, there she was. She was staring at him across the distance, excitement evident on her face. Will called to the crew to pour on the speed. They were catching up with the _Endeavor_, and with any luck at all, the _Dutchman_ and the _Pearl_ could take her down with little to no damage to themselves. Will briefly wondered if Elizabeth realized what had happened to him, but he pushed that thought aside and concentrated his whole attention on sending Beckett to the depths and protecting the _Pearl_ from harm.


	2. Chapter 2 Trust Her Heart

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 2 – Trust Her Heart

The _Endeavor_ and her captain had been conquered, sent to the bottom of the sea. A quick conference between Bootstrap Turner and Jack Sparrow resulted in the two ships speeding toward the nearest island. Both crews were jubilant at their latest victory, but the mood inside the captain's quarters of the _Dutchman_ was decidedly more subdued.

Will had returned to the cabin as soon as he'd realized the battle was won. In the euphoria after the battle, he'd wanted to return to the _Pearl_ and be reunited with his new wife, but Bootstrap had gently reminded him that he was now bound to the _Dutchman_.

"I talked to Captain Sparrow, and he agreed to meet us at the nearest island, so you can spend your day on land with Elizabeth." His father told him.

Will leaned dejectedly against a bulkhead, trying desperately to think of some way around the curse that had befallen him.

"I'll leave you to get ready for your missus. You may want to clean up a bit." And Bootstrap quietly slipped out of the cabin and shut the door.

Will looked down at his blood-stained shirt. He glanced around the room and saw a small washstand with a basin, water jug and mirror. He pulled his shirt off and surveyed his reflection.

He was dirty and bloody. The entire left side of his body was caked in dried blood. He poured water into the basin and dipped his shirt in it, using it to wash his face and torso. Finally, he began cleaning the wounds on his chest. The scars were massive and very painful. But more painful still was the moment he pressed the damp cloth to his chest and felt nothing. No heartbeat. It was true and unavoidable. How could Elizabeth still want him? She'd never wait for him for ten years. That was no way to have a marriage. He would have to ask Barbossa to annul their marriage. It was the right thing to do.

A knock on the door broke Will from his reverie. It was a crewman, but Will didn't remember his name.

"Captain, we ain't got no nice clothes, but we thought yeh'd be needin' something clean an' presentable fer goin' to see yer missus."

The crewman held up a bundle of clothing.

"Thank you, mister…"

"Mr. Digges, sir. Barty Digges."

"Mr. Digges, tell the crew I appreciate it."

Digges stood there awkwardly for a moment and then muttered an "at your service" and hurried out of the room.

Will changed into the clean clothing, which happened to fit rather well. He may be dead and cursed, but at least he'd look decent when he saw the love of his life for the last time. He laced the shirt tightly to cover the hideous scar; it was the best he could do, there would be no hiding the fact that he no longer had a beating heart.

He chanced a quick glance at the ugly black chest on the table. He supposed he'd have to bring it to the island and bury it there. It would be no good to keep it on the ship – what if the crew mutinied and stabbed his heart? Although death might be preferable to an eternity without Elizabeth, he'd hate to leave his father in the hands of another tyrant like Davy Jones.

He couldn't bring himself to go near the chest, though, so it was a blessing that Bootstrap turned up just then to alert him that they were approaching land.

"I asked Jack to have your belongings brought over from the _Pearl_ as soon as we reach land. So you'll not have to worry about nothin' but spendin' time with your bride."

"She'll not be my bride much longer." Will said quietly. "I'm going to ask Barbossa to annul our marriage."

The shock was evident on Bootstrap's face. "That's a mighty rash decision, William. What if she don't agree?"

"There's no reason for her to be bound to me, when I can only be with her once every ten years."

"It's a cruel thing," Bootstrap agreed. "But you didn't see her weepin' over you as your blood pooled on the deck. I've no doubt that Jack did what he did as much for her as for you."

"I'd rather she grieve for me and move on."

"Well, you better take into account that stubborn streak o' hers. She seems right independent to me, an' I'm not sure you'll have much chance to argue with 'er."

Will sighed deeply. "I'll do what I can; she has to see that our relationship is hopeless."

"Never say it's hopeless, Will. I never had much hope of seein' you again, and now look where we are. So don't lose hope, son. Hope's a precious treasure, and the only thing that'll keep you goin'."

Will shrugged off his father's kind words. "We're slowing down."

"Aye. It's about time."

"Will you…" Will cleared the lump in his throat. "Will you bring the chest ashore?"

"You don't want to give it to her?" Bootstrap walked to the chest and laid his hand on top of it, feeling the vibrations of the heart beating within. His son turned away with a look of disgust.

"I won't lay that burden on her."

"And if she asks for it?"

Will sighed again. "I don't know.

"Go on up and meet your bride. Take whatever she offers you. Trust her heart and trust her with yours."


	3. Chapter 3 Day is Done

Author's note: I hate author's notes, really I do. But I wanted to give a bit of explanation here. I didn't include a rewrite of the scene where Will and Elizabeth meet on the island for their last day together. I figured the movie covered it fairly well, and other authors have done some masterful rewrites to fill in the gaps that the movie didn't cover. So I didn't really want to tackle it (mostly because I don't think I could do as well as some other authors who have already done it). I know that leaves something of a hole in the story, but I figure you already know how that scene went down anyway. I'll be using bits of it in flashbacks and memories, but not the whole scene.

Also, I hope I'm not wearing anyone out with all the angst. We all know Will Turner tends to be brooding and insecure, so he's most likely going to stay that way until some event triggers a change. That event is coming, I promise. Also coming are visits from other characters and glimpses of what Elizabeth is up to.

This chapter is short. It's really more of a little interlude, rather than a real chapter.

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 3 – Day is Done

Will returned from his day with Elizabeth with a face that betrayed his conflicting emotions. His crew was wise enough to give their new captain plenty of space. Even Bootstrap kept his distance. As they sailed toward the horizon, he stood a few feet behind his son.

"She kept the chest, eh?" He said gruffly.

"She kept the chest." Will replied softly.

"So you're still married then."

"Aye, we're still married."

"You done the right thing." With that, Bootstrap turned and left quietly.

Will grasped the wheel more firmly, and steered his ship toward the setting sun.


	4. Chapter 4 Endless Sea

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 4 – Endless Sea

Will Turner finished coiling some spare rope on the deck of the _Dutchman_. His crew had been slightly diminished in the few weeks since the demise of Davy Jones. Some had been loyal to Jones and had chosen the Locker over sailing under another captain. Will was glad to be rid of those chaps. Some of the others, once released from Jones' bondage, were quite ready to pass on to the life beyond. So Will was down to a bare bones crew of those who were willing to serve their new captain in exchange for a postponement of death. Will found himself doing the work of several crewmen, but threw himself into the work with vigor. Every moment he was working was a moment he didn't have to think about his fate and future.

But now, he stopped short and clutched his chest. He leaned on the rail and stared out to sea, waiting for the pain to subside.

"Is it hurtin' yeh, boy?" A gruff voice behind him asked quietly.

Will turned as his father joined him at the railing. Will grunted and looked away. He'd developed a decent working-relationship with his father, but still felt a certain reluctance to befriend him further, in spite of Bootstraps friendly overtures.

"You shouldn't be working so hard," Bootstrap said. "You're burnin' the candle at both ends, and it'll catch up with you sooner or later."

"There's work to be done, and it's my responsibility to see that it gets done." Will's voice was monotone and emotionless.

"Aye, but there's no cause to wear yourself out, doin' it so fast. The souls will still be there, even if it takes us a hundred years to reach 'em all."

"They shouldn't have to wait that long, they've waited long enough already." Will said quietly.

"You can't right all of Davy Jones' wrongs in a week, son." Bootstrap told him gently. "Give yourself time to rest."

Will shook his head in irritation. "I don't need rest."

"Your body may not need rest, but it'll do you good to take some time off-duty. You've had quite a sudden shock, and you need time to adjust."

Will shook his head and squinted out at the sea. He didn't want to adjust. He certainly didn't want to take time to let his mind wander. And he knew if he stopped moving long enough, he'd have to come to terms with the changes in his life. His scar gave another painful twinge and he touched it gingerly.

"A wound like that don't heal overnight." Bootstrap said quietly, almost as if to himself. Will wondered if he was referring to the actual wound, or the emotional wound of knowing his own father had carved out his heart and doomed him to this slavery. He wasn't likely to heal from either one anytime soon.

Will sighed. "I didn't realize it would hurt so much." He paused. "I thought…"

"You thought that if your heart was gone, you'd have no more pain?"

Will looked sideways at his father, then back to sea. "I suppose so."

"Nah. You're not Davy Jones, and even _he_ wasn't free of pain… That's why he was so cruel. He wanted to inflict as much pain on others as he was feelin' himself."

"Causing others pain won't help anything."

Bootstrap nodded in agreement. "You realize that because you're a better man than Jones ever was."

Will caught his father's eye this time. "Thank you."

"That's no empty flattery, son. It's the truth."

Bootstrap paused thoughtfully. He continued, the gruffness in his voice betraying his emotion. "William, I can't tell you how sorry I am that this happened to you. If there had been another way…"

"What's done is done." Will replied coldly, turning away again.

"Maybe it's too much to ask, but… if you could ever forgive me…"

"For what? For carving out your own son's heart? For dooming me to an eternity on this ghost ship? For taking me away from the one person I've ever loved and who has ever truly loved me?"

"If I hadn't done what I did, you would be dead, gone forever and still separated from Elizabeth. Would you have preferred that?"

Will buried his face in his hands. "I don't know."

"And, William, you may not believe me now, but I'm tellin' you the truth when I say that Elizabeth ain't the only person who loves you."

With that, Bootstrap ambled off, leaving Will staring out at the endless sea.


	5. Chapter 5 Captain's Quarters

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 4 – Captain's Quarters

Later that night, Will returned to his cabin. He'd barely spent any time there in the last few weeks. He'd stop in to clean himself up a bit, change clothes from time to time. But he never stayed long enough to really examine the only home he now had. The crew had done a thorough job at removing Davy Jones' personal effects. The organ at the end of the room, now covered in canvas, was the only reminder of the cabin's former occupant.

Will sat down gingerly on the bed. He'd realized soon enough that his body no longer required sleep nor food, and he'd had no inclination to indulge in either. He glanced at his trunk at the foot of the bed. Jack had sent it over from the _Black Pearl_, packed by Elizabeth before she met him on the island. So far, he'd only opened it a few times, just to grab an extra shirt or stockings. He wanted to save a thorough investigation for later. Surely Elizabeth had put some personal touches for him to find. And once found, he'd have nothing left to look forward to finding.

Leaning between the trunk and the bulkhead was a long thin box that he didn't recognize. He opened it, revealing a sword he _did_ recognize. He remembered clearly all the weeks he'd worked on it. At the time, it was his pride and joy, the best he'd ever made. And as he was making it, his mind kept straying to the day he'd deliver it to Governor Swann, in hopes that he may catch a glimpse of Elizabeth while he was there.

He had seen her, and she'd been as beautiful as ever. Her words had made his heart beat so hard, he was sure she and her father would both hear it. And later that very day, his whole world had changed… Norrington's proposal to Elizabeth, the arrival of Jack Sparrow, the attack by the _Black Pearl_, Elizabeth's abduction…

And after everything, this sword had followed him, and in the end had pierced his own heart. He wondered why it had been left in his quarters. Closing the box, he considered throwing it overboard. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd poured so much of himself into the making of that sword, discarding it seemed like throwing away a piece of his soul. But he certainly didn't feel comfortable carrying it as his own. So he shoved the box under his bed.

He stood up and crossed the floor, which was swaying gently. Above the washstand was a mirror. He wondered now if it was a new addition for him, since he couldn't imagine Davy Jones wanting a mirror for any reason. Will washed his hands in the basin, and splashed water on his face. He stared at his reflection. He looked the same as ever, though his face looked more haggard than he remembered. Perhaps Bootstrap was right. Perhaps he was working too hard. The ship rocked suddenly, caught by a strong gust or a large swell, and Will, caught off-guard, grabbed the table to steady himself. As he did, his wound seared in protest. The swell passed and Will let go of the table. He pulled his shirt open and stared at his scarred chest.

He'd looked at it once before, soon after the battle with Beckett. At that time, it was raw and hideous. He'd been embarrassed for Elizabeth to see it, but it was unavoidable. She had been so strong. He could tell it was painful for her to see, but she hadn't been repulsed. She'd only touched it gently, first with her fingers, then with her lips. He'd told her she deserved so much more, a whole man who would be with her always. But she'd silenced him with a kiss, saying he was all she wanted in a man, and she'd settle for no other. And she'd taken that horrid pulsating chest as if it were a treasure. The sickening beating from within seemed to reassure her.

Now, he noticed that the scar from where Jones had stabbed him had healed quite well. But the ragged cut from Bootstrap's knife had barely improved. It no longer looked as if it could split open any second, but it was still very red. The slightest twitch of his muscles caused it to ache, and sudden movement caused a searing pain. He couldn't bring himself to touch the bare skin or feel the stillness beneath it.

He was disgusted by his condition, disgusted at the job he now had to perform. He couldn't believe he'd allowed Jones to kill him. It was utterly inconceivable. Wasn't he the best swordsman he knew? Shouldn't he have seen it coming? Why hadn't Jack stabbed Jones' heart already? If only he'd stabbed it before Jones could strike… then Jack would be captain of the _Dutchman_, and Will would be sailing free with Elizabeth toward their home waiting in Jamaica. Jack had always talked about the opportune moment, why had he missed it?


	6. Chapter 6 Empty Rum Bottles

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 6 – Empty Rum Bottles

It was less than a month later that Will was lying on his bed, waiting sleeplessly for his watch to begin, when someone knocked on his door.

"William!" Bootstrap called through the thick door.

"Come in," Will called as he sat up, trying to snap himself out of the daydream he'd been immersed in. It had involved him and Elizabeth on a beach with very little clothing.

Bootstrap hurried into the room clutching a rum bottle in his hand. "Mr. Stanbury noticed this floating near the starboard side and caught it with a net, thinking there may be rum in it." He paused and chuckled. "But there wasn't any rum in it. Just this paper. It has your name on it."

Will crossed the room in just a few strides and pulled the paper from Bootstrap's hand. Sure enough, written clearly in a familiar hand was _William Turner, Captain, The Flying Dutchman_.

"It's sealed, so you know no one's read it. But I have my suspicions who it's from." Bootstrap said eagerly.

"I know who it's from." Will said over the lump in his throat. He slit through the wax seal with his finger and saw two whole pages of Elizabeth's beautiful script.

Bootstrap cleared his throat. "I'll be goin' then." And he slipped through the door, swinging it shut behind him.

Will sank into the chair at his desk and began reading.

As he knew it would be, the letter was full of professions of love from Elizabeth, and she mentioned many times how much she missed him. She mentioned that she'd locked the chest in a secret and safe location. But what he devoured most hungrily were all the descriptions of what she'd been doing since he'd left. It made him feel like he was still part of her life. And by her description, she seemed to be doing alright.

She'd returned to Port Royal to claim her father's estate. She'd sold the mansion and most of her and her father's former possessions. There was a new governor due to arrive in Port Royal shortly, and she was a little concerned about her legal standing, so she had moved to a quiet bay on the other side of the island, where she had a modest house built on the edge of a fishing village. She planned to invest most of her inheritance in several fishing boats, so she'd have an honest source of income in addition to whatever rewards she gained from her official position as Pirate King and Captain of the _Empress of Singapore_. She mentioned that she might take a few months to sail on the _Empress_ once her fishing fleet was well established, but she hadn't decided yet. Will smiled as he imagined her finally free to set up a life of her own, free of the societal expectations her father had always placed on her. His wife surely was a pirate through and through. _But a damn sight more beautiful than any other pirate in the world_, he thought.

Immediately after reading Elizabeth's letter, Will lifted the top of his desk and was pleased to find paper, ink, and a quill. At first, he found it difficult to begin his letter, but once he started, the words flowed from him like a river. He told her of the crew, and the work they were doing. He told her about some of the sights he'd seen and people he'd met. He mentioned a little about his struggle to come to terms with what had happened to him. But he tried to keep the letter as positive as possible. He mentioned many times how much he missed her, and how much he loved her.

He rolled the letter and sealed it, writing _Elizabeth Turner, Lucea, Jamaica_ on the outside and slipped it into the bottle. He then corked the bottle and sealed it with wax so that no water could seep in, nor could it be tampered with. He debated over tossing it into the sea and hoping for it to somehow reach Elizabeth. Her bottle had indeed reached him, by some fortune of wind and sea, but he was reluctant to leave his precious letter to chance.

The next day, a solution came to him as they came upon a wrecked ship sinking slowly on a reef in the Pacific. The dead souls willingly accepted transport, and gave them permission to scavenge the wreck for supplies. One of the dead crewmen approached Will and said "Cap'n, I know it be not yer job, but me best mate survived the wreck and took off in a tiny dinghy wit naught but a bit of bread and rum. I worries dat mebbe he won't live to find land nor be rescued."

Will felt bad for the poor man, but couldn't think what he could do for him. "Sir, it's a sad thing to be sure, but what do you want me to do?"

"Mebbe tek him some water and food? I'm a'hopin' he'll mek it back to tell me wife dat I won't be a'comin' home."

Will stared at the dead sailor, thunderstruck. Of course! They saw survivors all the time, and passed boats of the living from time to time. He could send his letter by one of them! That would be slightly more reliable than tossing it out to sea.

"Sir, I think we could do what you ask, provided he hasn't made it too far by now. We can't change our course but a little once we've taken passengers aboard."

"I understand, Cap'n. I'll be right thankful to ye just fer tryin'."

Will called out for Bootstrap, who hurried over. "Mr. Turner, there's a survivor nearby in a small dinghy. I want to find him and supply him with food, water, and flares."

"Sir?" Bootstrap asked. "Not to question your orders, but that seems a bit of a wild goose chase."

"I want to give him a small rum bottle to deliver to Jamaica." Will replied quietly.

"Oh, aye. Makes perfect sense to me." Bootstrap replied crisply. "I'll alert the crew."

They met up with the survivor not very far from the wreck. He was terrified to see the ghost ship, but having few options, rowed alongside the _Dutchman_ to hear their offer. Will lowered down a bundle of food, a cask of water, a bottle full of rum, and a box of flares.

"I hope that helps you on your journey. I don't want to see you again anytime soon." Will called down to the survivor.

"Nor I you, Cap'n, though I appreciates what ye done fer me."

"Would you then do a favor for me, and for your friend here?"

"Aye, wha's that?"

"Tell your friend's wife what's become of him. Let her know he'll be waiting for her on the other side."

The survivor nodded solemnly. "That I will. Harvey!" He called up to his dead friend. "Harvey, ye've been the best mate a man could have. I'll drink to yeh on yer birfdays, lad, and I'll tell yer missus that ye've gone to a better place."

"Thank ye, Charlie. I'll not be forgettin' ye eiver."

"One more thing, Charlie," Will called down again.

"Aye, Cap'n?"

"Will you take this bottle and be sure it makes it to Jamaica?"

"Wha's that, Cap'n?"

"It contains a letter to my wife. She's in Jamaica, and I won't see her again for nearly ten years. Will you take it to her?"

"Well, I weren't plannin' to go to Jamaica, but seein' as how ye've helped both me an' Harvey, I swears that letter will mek it to yer missus."

"Thank you, Charlie." Will lowered the bottle on a rope and watched as Charlie stowed it securely in his little boat. "Best of luck to you, and don't come back too soon!"

"Thank ye, Cap'n. Thank ye, Harvey!" And with that, he rowed off.

After that, Will made it a habit of helping survivors whenever he could, and frequently sent a letter to Elizabeth with them. The crew became accustomed to these little side journeys, and made sure there was always a good stock of food, water and flares available. The ship's carpenter even took to building small boats from the wood they scavenged from wrecked ships, so that if they came across a survivor hanging onto driftwood, they could offer him a boat and a better chance at survival. Though their main occupation was ferrying the dead, they took compassion on those who weren't yet dead, and it gave them great satisfaction to save others from their own fate. Davy Jones would have never done such a thing, which gave them even greater satisfaction. And of course, Will was glad of any opportunity to communicate with Elizabeth.

Every time the _Dutchman_ re-entered the waters of the living world from the other side, Will searched the sea for signs of a bottle containing a letter from Elizabeth. It seemed that even if a sailor found such a bottle, they weren't willing to seek out the _Flying Dutchman_ to make the delivery, and sent it back to the sea to make its own way. But Will didn't believe he'd ever missed a letter, and therefore had a suspicion that perhaps Calypso was helping the bottles reach their destination.


	7. Chapter 7 Cause for Celebration

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 7 – Cause for Celebration

It was just six months after Will had taken command of the _Dutchman_ when another bottle appeared bobbing on the gentle waves. Will saw it himself, and tossed a net overboard to snag the bottle. Sure enough, it was from Elizabeth, and he leaned against a barrel to read the enclosed letter. He didn't get past the first paragraph before he dropped the bottle and slid silently to the deck. A deckhand was walking by and noticed his captain's strange behavior.

"Captain? Sir? Are you alright?" The deckhand asked cautiously.

Will tried to speak, but found his voice had gone hoarse.

"What was that sir?" The deckhand asked again.

"She's pregnant." Will managed to croak out. And his face went pale and he bent over as if to stave off sickness.

The deckhand's eyes widened and he took off running. He ran below deck to where most of the crew was sitting around playing dice and drinking.

"Bootstrap! Bootstrap!" The young man called down the stairs. Bootstrap came to the bottom of the stairs.

"What be the problem, boy?" He asked gruffly.

"Sir, it's the captain. He got a letter from his girl and…" the deckhand dropped his voice, "she's pregnant."

"Shhhh," Bootstrap hissed angrily at the young man. "I'll be up in a mo'." Then he hollered to one of his companions, "Paco, hand me a bottle o' rum. The captain's had a bit of a shock, and needs some picking up."

The crew grew silent and stared curiously at Bootstrap. Paco handed him a nearly full bottle.

"That'll do. I'll tell you lot later." He said as he thundered up the stairs.

Bootstrap hurried out on deck, clutching the bottle of rum. He found his son shakily rising to his feet.

"Here, boy. Don't try to get up. Just sit down and have a drink."

"I'm…. I'm fine." Will stuttered, nonetheless grabbing the bottle of rum from his father's hand.

"You don't look fine, Will. Young Bob told me what you said. News like that's enough to knock any man off his feet for a spell."

"No, I'm alright. It's… it's good news, isn't it?"

"So long as it's your whelp an' she's happy about it."

Will shot his father a scathing look. "Of course it's mine, and of course she's happy."

"Well, then, you've got naught to be upset about."

"Right, right." Will took a deep swig of the rum. "I wish I could see her."

"By now she'll be big as a whale, and as moody as the sea."

"I bet she's beautiful." Will said wistfully.

"Well, 'course she is. But you needn't get all melancholy. It's cause for celebration. Let's go below and tell all the lads."

Will nodded and got to his feet. Though the rum hadn't even taken effect yet, he swayed precariously. Bootstrap grabbed his arm and steered him toward the stairs. As the pair descended, Bootstrap called out…

"Future father and grandfather comin' down! Make way for the captain!"

Though the crew loved any reason for a celebration, their enthusiasm was a testament to how much they liked and respected their captain. Luckily, by virtue of their state of being undead, the effects of the rum wore off quickly, and the next day they were going about their jobs heartily, if not jovially.

Will was finally able to settle himself and read the rest of Elizabeth's letter.

_Dearest Will,_

_I wanted to be the first to tell you my important news, before you heard rumors from anyone else. __I am carrying our child!__ I suspected that was the case when I wrote my first letter to you, but I wanted to wait until I was certain before telling you. _

_I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to have this little human being inside me. It is overwhelming to think that our one day together would have such lasting results. I am sure the news comes as a surprise, but I hope that once it settles in, you will be as happy as I am. I promise to write often to keep you informed as the baby's birth approaches, which should be around mid-May. _

_I thought perhaps I would be seen as a bit of a scandal in the village, since I arrived pregnant with no husband in sight. But Lucea is not that sort of village. There are people from all corners of the world and from all walks of life. In general they have responded with kindness to my pregnancy. The Irish carpenter, Tobias Flynn, is already working on a crib for the baby. His wife, Rachel, has become a mentor of sorts to me, since she has a one-year-old daughter and another baby on the way. I shall be turning the spare room into a nursery, and I have plans to paint pictures of ships and islands for the room to entertain the little one once he or she arrives._

_I have managed to acquire two fishing boats as of yet, and have hired some seasoned sailors as their captains. I have given the captains the responsibility of recruiting the crew, and both boats are nearly fully staffed. I told the captains that I was not particular about the crewmembers backgrounds or previous occupation so long as they were hard workers and once aware whom they were working for would be willing to make a pledge of loyalty and honesty. I do not know how many of the crewmembers are former pirates, but all of them know of my title and reputation, so I imagine they shall be on good behavior. For good measure, the _Empress_ will be arriving sometime soon after New Year. Her presence in the harbor should strike a healthy amount of fear into my employees._

_I had a fleeting thought of sailing with the Empress this spring, so that I could give birth at sea, and perhaps see you in passing. But my doctor has warned me against sailing, for both my health and the baby's. I assure you, I will do nothing to put myself or the baby at risk. I fear your wrath should something happen to either of us. Not that your wrath is terribly fearful though._

_Well, beloved, I must close. I hope to send this letter to sea before the tide goes out today. I hope all is well with you. Please write soon._

_Yours, as Always,_

_Elizabeth (and Baby) Turner_


	8. Chapter 8 Waiting for News

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 8 – Waiting for News

Will had been captain of the _Dutchman_ for a little over nine months now. He'd grown accustomed to the crew, to the ship, and to the regular pattern of retrieving souls and ferrying them over the horizon. His physical wounds hurt less frequently, though there was a persistent ache in his empty chest that never seemed to fade. His pain of missing Elizabeth was also dulled by many days of hard work. But on quiet nights, when the ship grew silent and the wind all but stopped, the memories rushed at him like a hurricane and threatened to overwhelm him. So he spent many of those nights with his new hobby.

Although he had come to enjoy life as a sailor the last year or so, Will had found himself missing his blacksmith days, missing the shaping of iron and steel, the forming of something useful or beautiful. There was no opportunity for metal work on the _Dutchman_, but there was an abundance of wood. So Will began carving. Whenever the _Dutchman_ came across as shipwreck, he had the crew bring aboard any wood that was fit for woodwork.

His first attempt was a dice cup for his father. It turned out well enough, so he started doing fish, gulls, and other sea creatures. He'd taken a small broken table from a wrecked ship and turned the top into a plaque for his cabin wall. He'd carved his and Elizabeth's name in it in delicate script, leaving room at the bottom to add the name of their child.

And that was the thought that was preoccupying his thoughts this night as he sat alone on deck, whittling aimlessly at a chunk of wood. It had been over nine months since he'd left Elizabeth. Surely the baby had come by now. But he had no way of knowing when he'd get his next news from Elizabeth. It left him feeling helpless and frustrated. _Was he a father yet? Was Elizabeth alright? Was the baby healthy?_

"Arrr," he grunted, hacking furiously at his block of wood.

"What has that wood done to deserve that?" Bootstrap asked as he approached.

"It's being uncooperative." Will said seriously.

"Maybe it just doesn't know what you want from it." Bootstrap joked.

"Maybe I haven't decided yet." Will joked back.

Bootstrap smiled. "Then the problem's not the wood, William, it's you."

"Aye, the problem is me. I'm having trouble concentrating."

"I think I know why, son. Your thoughts are in Jamaica. Can't blame you for that."

"No, I suppose not. But since there's nothing I can do about what may be happening in Jamaica, what's the point in worrying about it?"

"It shows you care." Bootstrap said kindly. "And she'd appreciate that."

"I just wish I could get some news." Will said with a sigh. "I'd like to know that she's alright, that the baby's alright. Childbirth is no easy task."

Bootstrap laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "She's a strong woman, William. And any child of the two of you is bound to be strong as well. Life is full of danger, but there's no value in expectin' the worst."

"I'll just be relieved once I get some news."

"In the meantime, why don't you work on a gift for the child? Something to let 'im know that he's got a father thinkin' about 'im."

"Aye, I'll do that." Will said, and returned to his whittling with renewed enthusiasm and purpose.


	9. Chapter 9 The Message & The Monkey

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 9 – The Message and the Monkey

_The Flying Dutchman_ spent most of its time sailing the placid waters at the edge of the living world. Here, the souls of those lost at sea congregated, awaiting the ghost ship that would ferry them across the horizon. The living did not stray here, and the dead were eager to leave. The water was unnaturally calm, and an eerie mist hung in the air and never seemed to fade. There were no stars visible, and the passage of time was marked only by a slight lightening and darkening of the mist as the sun passed somewhere overhead and sank over the horizon. At sunset, the mist flared red, and if the _Dutchman_ had souls to bring to the afterlife, she plunged beneath the water, and emerged on the other side, where the dead were released to their eternal rest. The ship would then return to the world's edge to collect more souls. The pace was slow and monotonous, with no end in sight. After centuries of neglect, the ocean was teeming with lost souls, ignored by Davy Jones and left waiting for an absolution.

The crew was glad then when a sudden wind would stir the sails, pushing the ship toward the wild, pulsating oceans of the living world to collect the newly dead. Under the command of Captain Turner, the ship seemed to respond readily to some supernatural direction, pushing or pulling her wherever she was needed.

Whenever they entered the waters of the living world, the Captain would be found at the bow, gazing out at the sea, hoping for a letter in a bottle from his beloved, or for sight of a living vessel with whom he could send a letter to her.

On this particular day, they slid easily through the mist until the sun erupted over the deck as they entered the living world. Will tilted his face upward to soak in the warm rays and to marvel at the brilliance of the blue sky and white clouds. When he turned his attention back to the sea, he was surprised to see another ship dead ahead of them. He was even more surprised to see that it was a familiar ship. _The Black Pearl_. As they approached, Will could see a familiar figure lurching across the deck, waving his hat energetically.

Will called for the crew to bring the _Dutchman_ alongside the _Pearl_, and run a gangplank between them. Before they had the chance, however, Jack Sparrow had grabbed a rope and swung across.

"Jack Sparrow," Will said incredulously as his friend landed not ten feet from him.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow." Said the other emphatically, strolling along the deck, apparently observing and approving of the maintenance and appearance of the _Dutchman_.

"Jack, what are you doing here?"

"I've been waiting here for _days_, mate."

"For what?"

"For you actually." Jack strode right up to Will until he was uncomfortably close. "I knew you'd turn up sooner or later. Unfortunately it was later rather than sooner, and we're getting _desperately_ low on rum." Jack said this last part quite pointedly.

"Well, we may be able to rectify your rum situation, but first you'll have to tell me why you're here."

"I told you, mate, I was waiting for you to return from the underworldly parts, so I could deliver you a message."

"A message? From Elizabeth?" Will asked urgently.

"Aye, from Elizabeth."

"Well? What is it?"

"What?"

"The message, Jack. What was the message?"

"Oh, aye." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an assortment of odd items including a rabbit's foot, a blackened biscuit, a thimble, a gold earring and a tiny folded bit of paper. He shoved all the contents back into his pocket, and began unfolding the paper. It was folded many times and appeared so dirty that Will wondered if it would be possible to read anything that may have once been written on it.

Jack examined the paper closely. "Ah, yes. Elizabeth wishes me to tell you that she has birthed your spring-off – er- off-spring – er – progenity or some such."

"She's had the baby." Will translated.

"Aye! She's had the baby."

"When?"

"Well, it's been some days or weeks or…." Jack looked thoughtful and counted on his fingers. "We made a quick stop in Tortuga, at which point events ensued, unfolded and unavoidably delayed our departure for some time."

"So she had the baby, but you don't know when."

Jack smiled, showing off an assortment of gold teeth. "Aye!"

"Do you at least know if it's a girl or a boy?"

Jack gave him a reproaching look. "Elizabeth, my dear William, has always been and continues to be a woman. Of which – if you've been reproducing with her and whatnot – you should already be aware."

"Jack, the baby." Will responded in exasperation. "Is the baby a girl or a boy?"

"Ah. The baby is a boy, and the spittin' image of yourself, if I do say so meself."

"You've seen him?" Will prodded.

"No, but I've heard."

Will sighed. "I suppose I should be glad just to know that Elizabeth and the baby are alright."

Jack responded heartily, "Indeed they are. So how about that rum?"

"I'll have a barrel sent over to the _Pearl_."

Jack glanced at his friend with a scheming look in his eye, "Make it two barrels and I'll tell you the other part of the message."

Will stared at him in disbelief. "You didn't mention there was more."

"I was merely waiting for the opportune moment, William," Jack said slyly, "A skill you would do well to imitate."

"Fine. Two barrels. Tell me the rest of the message."

"Your bonny lass asked me…" He stared hard at the paper as if it was difficult to decipher, though Will seriously doubted there was anything written there at all. "To tell you…" He turned the paper sideways, then upside down. "Ah! She named the whelp after you."

"After me?"

"Yes, William. It's a longstanding custom of the grand English tradition to name a first-born son after his distinguished father – or not-so-distinguished as the case may sometimes be. You, of all people, should have known that, seeing as how you yourself were named for your distinguished pirate father." Jack looked around the deck. "How is ol' Bootstrap these days?"

"He's fine."

"Then he's not all _blechhhh?" _Jack added, with a vague gesture at his face and an accompanying expression of disgust.

"No, the crew is quite cured of that." Will said with a sigh. He'd forgotten how exhausting a conversation with Jack Sparrow really was.

"Good then." Jack dropped his voice to a stage whisper "It really didn't suit him at all."

"Jack. Back to Elizabeth's message. She named the baby William?"

"Yes, mate. William J. Turner the Third. Now if that ain't a name to live up to, I don't know what is."

"J?" Will asked quizzically.

"She didn't say what it stood for. But if you ask me, it's likely to be Jack. A good strong name for a good strong boy."

"Perhaps she wanted to leave it ambiguous." Will said lightly. He doubted very strongly that Elizabeth had named the baby after Jack.

"Ambigu-huey? Don't use words you don't understand, William."

"Exactly."

"Eh?"

"Is that all there was to the message?" Will asked wearily.

"Aye. She seemed to think I may have difficulties remembering more than that."

"I can't imagine why." Will said sarcastically.

Jack ignored the sarcasm and nodded in agreement. "That's what I said, mate. But she did give me a bottle to deliver to you."

"Where is it?"

"Don't get too excited, boy. There wasn't any rum in it."

"Jack…" Will pleaded.

Jack tried to whistle, failed, tried again, and finally shouted "Where's that blasted monkey?"

A small monkey appeared on the railing of the _Pearl_ and scampered across the rigging to the _Dutchman_. The bottle it clasped in one paw seemed much too large for the monkey, but it didn't seem to mind.

"Isn't that Barbossa's monkey?" Will asked in confusion.

"No. Barbossa's rodent isn't nearly so well-behaved as this one. I picked 'im up in Singapore. Named 'im Willy."

"Willy?" Will asked skeptically.

"Aye. It seemed a good name for a scrawny rodent such as he, and seein' as how he's been…" Here Jack mimed cutting with scissors. "You know… snip snip… keeps 'im from gettin' distracted with the girl monkeys."

"Right." Will said resignedly as he retrieved the bottle from the monkey, which had perched on Jack's shoulder.

Jack slid back into negotiation mode. "That bottle, William, is surely worth another barrel of rum."

"Jack, you can't take all our rum. What would you do with three barrels anyway?"

"Well, mate, if you don't know what to do with rum, then you don't deserve to have any at all."


	10. Chapter 10 Birth Announcement

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 10 – Birth Announcement

_Dearest Will,_

_I wish to be the first to offer you congratulations… your son was born on May 15 (just two days ago as I write this). He arrived after six hours of great effort on my part, but the midwife told me I had it quite easy as some first-time mothers will be at labor for more than ten. When he was born, he had dark blue eyes, but I suspect they will darken to brown eventually. He has a fine covering of soft dark hair on his head, and he is long and lean like you. I'll trace his hand and foot at the bottom of this letter, so you can see how tiny they are. No doubt he will grow quickly._

_I named him William Joshua Turner after you and your father. Please share this letter with your father for me. I am a bit sad to think that William will not have the pleasure of knowing his grandparents. I have sweet memories of my grandparents in England when I was a little girl. But William does have the benefit of a very warm and friendly community. There will no doubt be many old ladies willing to treat him as their own grandson. They have been like mothers to me ever since I arrived._

_I have to admit, I am a bit nervous about being a mother. I have been without my own mother for most of my life, so I cannot say that I have had a role model to look to. These sweet ladies assure me it will grow on me naturally, and I know I always have them to turn to for advice. Doña Miriam is rocking little William in the nursery as I write, no doubt singing him a Spanish lullaby. What a lucky little boy he will be to grow up in this village – so different than Port Royal or London. And I will teach him to look out to the horizon every evening and send love to you._

_I must close now, darling. There is so much to do whenever William is asleep! I shall send this letter as soon as I can._

_With all our love,_

_Elizabeth and William_

_P.S. I hope that Jack reaches you in a timely manner. I know your ship is difficult to find, so don't judge Jack too harshly if it takes him awhile. However, judge him as harshly as you like if he comes up with excuses or has wasted time in Tortuga or on side-trips. I will request quite strongly that he sail directly to where your ship was likely to appear. I plan to take the compass reading myself, and if he follows my bearings, there should be little delay. _

Bootstrap saw his son roll up the letter and stuff it into his pocket. He walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. "So Jack came to bring you news from Elizabeth?"

"Aye. She and the baby are doing well." Will's face twitched into an awkward smile, as if his features had forgotten how to form that expression.

"That's good news, Will." Bootstrap said with relief evident in his gruff voice. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"A boy." Will said in quiet awe. "I have a… son. His name is William."

Bootstrap looked startled, but pleased. Another William in the family! "Ah, well, then I suppose Elizabeth doesn't think too poorly of you and I."

Will's small smile broke into a grin. "I suppose not." He paused. "And apparently Jack doesn't either, as he named his monkey Willy."

Bootstrap grunted. "That pesky sea-rat! He took three barrels o' rum from our hold in exchange for bringin' you that message. Does he ever do somethin' for nothin'?"

Will laughed and shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. But he does occasionally manage to do some good without trying. So I put up with him as best I can."

"Aye, that's all you can do with a rascal like that. He's a good friend to have, but only if you've got a bit o' patience." Bootstrap shrugged. "Did you give 'im that whale you've been carvin' for the baby?"

"I did. I just hope it makes it to Elizabeth. I don't exactly mistrust Jack, but I haven't a great deal of confidence in him either."

"I've known Jack Sparrow for a long time. And I reckon he cares more about you and Elizabeth than he'd be willing to admit. He'll get the gift to her. Mebbe not in what you'd call a _timely_ manner… but eventually."

Will nodded. He pulled the letter back out of his pocket and turned it over, looking at the tiny hand Elizabeth had traced there, bearing the initials WJT. He looked from the tiny fingers to his own, trying to imagine what it must be like to hold a child that small. He noticed Bootstrap watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"It's incredible. Unbeleivable." Will said in a low voice. "I'm a father."

"It's a grave responsibility and a great joy." Bootstrap said thoughtfully. "But those who shy away from the first never fully experience the second."

Will noticed a tinge of regret in his father's words, but didn't know what to say to alleviate it.

"You'll be a good father, Will. Little William the Third is a lucky child, though he don't know it yet."


	11. Chapter 11 A Day Off

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 11 – A Day Off

A/N: I originally posted this as a one-shot. I wrote it in the context of _Ten Years At Sea_ that story, but never really found a place to fit it in. I guess it kind of goes here, so this is where I'm sticking it.

0000000000000000000000000

It was a fine hot day, the kind of day that puts sailors in good spirits. There was a steady fresh breeze and white clouds drifting across the sapphire sky. Will was glad he had brought the Dutchman into the living world this day. It had been a busy sort of week, with both a naval battle and a tropical storm giving them plenty of passengers to deliver to the other side. After taking the souls safely across, Will had declared a day of leisure for the crew. They surfaced in the warm waters near the equator and took shifts caring for the bare basics of the ship. In their free time, the crew played all sorts of games and sports. Will spent most of his time aloft, leaning against the foremast, basking in the sun and enjoying the breeze. He rarely took time off to enjoy himself, but he knew the crew deserved it. The land of the dead, the misty sea between worlds, and the underside of the sea were all dreary places to spend much time. The crew of the Dutchman was used to it, but a day "topside" would do them all good.

Below him, two crew members had taken up their swords for a bit of fencing. On a regular ship, this sort of dangerous recreation would be quickly ended by the Captain or Bosun. But on a ship of the dead, it was a harmless pastime. Will watched with an amused expression as the two men battled. One of the men was significantly outmatched by the other and soon the better swordsman scored a touch on his opponent. The winner shouted in victory and began boasting of his ability to best anyone on board. Another crewman took up his challenge and was also defeated. Soon, the crewman had beaten three more men, and was reveling in his accomplishment. Will shook his head. The man was aggressive and advanced forcefully on his opponents, but Will suspected that if he were put to the test, he'd be less than agile on the defense.

In a moment of levity, Will shouted down, "You only think you're good because you haven't had a real challenge yet."

"Is that so, Cap'n?" The victor said in surprise. "If that be the case, per'aps ye'd come on down and put o'd Robbie to the test."

Will considered for a moment. He hadn't intended to really challenge his crewman. But a fencing match would feel really good. He hadn't had a chance to practice his swordsmanship in ages. He had no doubt that he could beat Robbie, even though he was out of practice. So he slid down a rope and picked up one of the swords. It was a coarse weapon, nothing like what he would make, but the balance wasn't bad. His entire body felt more alive than it had in months. His muscles tensed in memory of years of training, and his nerves tingled in anticipation.

Robbie looked taken aback that he was actually going to face his captain in a fencing match. But he overcame his surprise quickly and took up his position. As Will knew he would, Robbie advanced forcefully, swinging hard and fast. Will blocked each attack efficiently, trying to maintain his ground and save his energy. He could tell that Robbie was beginning to realize that Will was not to be intimidated. As Robbie slowed down to rethink his strategy, Will sensed his advantage and took up the offense. Robbie deflected his attacks sloppily, and Will could tell he was struggling to keep up. So he upped the ante by moving sideways. Robbie was caught off guard and swung clumsily at Will while desperately trying to collect himself to mimic Will's footwork. He regained his bearings and gave a valiant attempt to regain the offense, but Will was quicker and avoided his attacks easily. Robbie struggled to maintain his rhythm while in motion, and before he knew it, Will had not only scored a touch, but had also disarmed him in the process.

Will lowered his weapon and held out his hand to Robbie. Robbie shook it as though in a daze. As Will looked around at his crew, they all wore identical expressions of amazement. Apparently none of them knew their captain was such an expert swordsman. Will laid down the sword, to allow them to continue their competition and walked over to where Bootstrap was leaning against the railing.

"That was a fair bit o' swordplay, there, Will." Bootstrap said, with a measure of surprise and pride in his voice. "Where'd yeh learn to fight like that?"

Will leaned against the railing and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. He thought, not for the first time, of how little those on the Dutchman, including his father, really knew him. To the crew, he was simply the Captain, not unfriendly, but distant. And even Bootstrap seemed reluctant to pry into Will's personal life unless he sensed Will wanted to talk. Since Will wasn't one to talk about himself much, the result was a mutual detachment. Still exhilarated from the fight, he spoke freely.

"I was a blacksmith in Jamaica. I started making swords when I was thirteen, and I practiced swordsmanship three hours every day from then on. There were always soldiers and sailors passing through Port Royal, and anytime I could find someone willing to teach me, test me or evaluate my technique, I took the opportunity."

"Three hours a day, eh?" Bootstrap said, amused and impressed. "What caused yeh to be so keen on swordfightin'?"

Will smiled wryly. "Well, I wanted to be prepared in case I should happen to meet a pirate."

He looked past his father, lost in thought. "When I traveled from England to look for you in the Caribbean, the ship I was on was attacked by the Black Pearl under Barbossa's command. I didn't know it at the time, but they were trying to track down the piece of Aztec gold you'd sent me. I was the only survivor of the attack, and I decided then that I would learn to defend myself."

Bootstrap looked at his son thoughtfully. "Strange how one small thing can make such a difference in a person's life. That little piece of gold cost me my life."

"And mine as well," Will responded quietly. "If it hadn't been for that coin, I would have never been mixed up with the likes of Barbossa and Jack Sparrow."

"For that I'm sorry, Will. I thought by sendin' it to you, I'd prove my point to Barbossa. Didn't really think much beyond that."

"It did cause the chain of events that brought me here. But if you hadn't sent it to me, I would never have met Elizabeth. She was aboard the ship that rescued me after Barbossa's attack."

"Aye, that's why it's best not to dwell too strongly on the 'mighta-beens,'" Bootstrap said. "The gains an' the losses often come mixed up together and it's damn near impossible to separate 'em."

Will nodded. "Even being here, on this ship, has its gains. Had I never taken up with pirates, I would have never gotten to know my father."

Bootstrap looked at Will cautiously. His son was still leaning casually against the railing, gazing into the distance, as if oblivious to the impact his words had made upon the older man.

"Ah, well," Boostrap began lightly. "Are yeh disappointed that your old man turned out to be a pirate?"

"There was a point in time when I believed that it was impossible to be both a good man and a pirate. I was wrong. You are a good man."

"Thank yeh, Will." Bootstrap cleared his throat and continued briskly. "Well, all that sword practicin' sure paid off. You put that braggart, Robbie Sparks, in his place."

Will laughed for the first time in months, enjoying the feeling. "He's not the first, and he won't be the last either."


	12. Chapter 12 Words from the Heart

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 12 – Words from the Heart

As soon as Will got an evening free, he locked himself in his cabin to pen a reply to Elizabeth's most recent letter. It seemed as if his entire world had changed on hearing the news of his son's birth. Suddenly he felt more purposeful, more invigorated, more _alive_ than he had just the day before. His strange, unconventional life suddenly had meaning, and he wanted to pour his thoughts out to Elizabeth, the one person who had ever penetrated his well-established defenses and seen into his heart.

_My Dear Elizabeth,_

_I hope you and little William are doing well. I want you to tell me about every little thing he does, so I can imagine I am there watching him as he grows. Just knowing that you and William are there thinking of me and waiting for me is a great encouragement. My duties seem easier and my burden is lighter. I have not felt this good in a long time. _

_I have taken up sword practice again. Some of the men held a fencing tournament recently, and I soundly beat the biggest braggart of them all. It was very satisfying, and I believe Bootstrap was quite impressed. It seems childish that I find so much satisfaction in his approval, but I suppose it is something I had wished for all my life, and never thought to obtain. _

_I know I will be as absent from little William's life as Bootstrap was from mine. But I hope you will tell him regularly that I love him and that he is the pride of my life. When he is old enough, I intend to write to him frequently so that he never doubts his father's affection. I will tell you now, from first-hand experience that although he will appreciate all that you say about me, he will never quite believe you unless I am able to reinforce it. And I promise to you and to him, I will be the very best father and husband I can be, even though I cannot be present. _

_I think I am beginning to accept my circumstances, and I am beginning to look ahead to the future, to see how I can do the best I can with what I have been given. I intend to be the best captain I can be. I intend to be as compassionate as I can to the souls I am to assist. I intend to be a good and fair leader of my crew, and a friend to those in need of friendship. I intend to make my own father proud, and give my son an honorable father to look up to. I intend to be faithful to you beyond measure, and be a support and a companion to you from afar until I can hold you in my arms again._

_I do not know what the future holds for me, for you, for our family. But I want it to be said that the Turners are good, honorable folk, who do good by all and love each other deeply. If I can do nothing else but make the name Turner synonymous with goodness and honor, then I will consider my life well-spent, no matter how long I sail these seas and what my occupation may be._

_I am no longer looking backwards to what might have been. Nor am I looking for loopholes to escape my duty. Some have speculated that Calypso may not bind me forever if I am able to right the wrongs of Davy Jones. But I am not dwelling on that possibility. Such a task may take me several lifetimes to accomplish, and what then would mortal life have to offer me? No. I will simply do my duty each day, looking forward to seeing you when I can, and fulfilling my roles as friend, captain, leader, son, father, and husband._

_Please take care of yourself and William. I love you both dearly and think of you often._

_With All my Love,_

_Will_


	13. Chapter 13 About Your Mother

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 13 – About Your Mother

Bootstrap turned the helm over to his son at the end of his watch, and began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back, as if considering whether to speak or not. Finally, he returned to the captain's side and spoke. "Will, I feel like we've become close these last months."

Will nodded and looked at the older man curiously.

"It's more than I could have asked for, since I wasn't the father you wanted me to be." Bootstrap continued quietly.

Will shrugged. "It's in the past. You've been a great help to me, and a good first mate. I don't hold any ill will toward you."

"Thank ye, son. It means a lot to hear you say that." Bill stood silently for a moment, trying to formulate his question. He had been wanting to speak with Will about this subject for awhile, but was afraid that it might taint their tentative relationship.

Will eyed his father cautiously. "What's on your mind?"

"I know you're not one to say much about yourself, and I realize there's things you'd rather not talk about. But…"

"What is it?" Will asked a little impatiently. All this waffle was clearly hiding something that Bootstrap was reluctant to talk to him about. There were times that it seemed that his father was almost afraid of him. Perhaps, Will thought, he was afraid of rejection.

Although he had many good reasons to reject the man, for the good of his ship and crew, and for the sake of his own need for companionship and advice, Will was determined to set the past aside and begin anew. They'd developed a good working relationship, and had become friends, though the journey toward a father-son relationship was still a long one ahead of them.

"You've never said… you haven't told me…" The older man cleared his throat and plunged onward. "What became o' your mother."

Will's throat tightened, and he gripped the wheel tensely. He had just been thinking of how he had forgiven his father for many things, and had let go of much of his anger. But thinking back to his childhood in England, Will felt his long-buried frustration bubble to the surface.

Bootstrap had always been a sporadic presence in his son's life. Leaving for months at a time and returning for just a week or two, when they would be a real family for a short time before taking him to the dock to see him off on another voyage. He left for the last time when Will was a few months shy of his fifth birthday. At first he'd sent letters and money, but those soon became fewer and farther between.

His mother had had to take on all sorts of work, just to support her son. It had been difficult work, much too difficult for such a delicate woman. Her health had suffered for much of Will's childhood, and eventually she was overcome when he was only ten. The doctor had called it tuberculosis. But Will was convinced that it was actually overwork and a broken heart that had taken his mother's life.

She had always told him that his father was a sailor, and that he would return when he could. At times, Will had wished that she would give up, accept that her husband was not going to return, and marry someone else. Someone who would take care of her. But he also refused to believe that his father would intentionally leave them. Something must have happened. Maybe he was shipwrecked, stranded on an island somewhere. Maybe he'd been kidnapped by pirates and press-ganged into their crew. Maybe he was dead. These thoughts haunted young Will until he could stand it no longer. He had to know what had become of his father. He had to know why he and his mother had suffered so. He had to know there was some reason behind it all. So he had set out for the open sea, intending to ask every sailor, every dockworker, every merchant, for news of Bill Turner.

When the _Princess_ had been attacked by the vicious black ship, he'd realized how foolish his mission had been. Did he really expect to find his father out here on the unforgiving sea? With brutal pirates such as these about, it was likely that he was already dead. And it was likely that no one knew when or how it had happened. Ships routinely disappeared from the face of the earth, sinking into oblivion along with their crew. It was hopeless to think anyone would know of his father. So Will had given it up. He'd resigned himself to the idea that he was an orphan, and it was now up to him to make his own way in the world.

So it had been quite a shock to Will when that unlucky pirate in the jail at Port Royal had recognized his name. Could it be that Jack Sparrow knew what had happened to his father? His shock was even greater when Sparrow had announced that Bill Turner had been a pirate. That notion was completely unacceptable to Will. He'd spent his whole life despising the pirates that made life so dangerous for honest sailors. He'd long believed that pirates were responsible for his father's absence from his life. And after his narrow escape from the hands of pirates on the _Princess_, it had become his life's mission to learn to defend himself and those he loved from the danger of pirates. No, it couldn't be true. His father was no pirate.

Jack's story had been confirmed by the crew of the Black Pearl, and by Barbossa himself. Bill Turner had indeed been a pirate, and had been considered quite honorable by pirate standards. And as his reward, he'd been sentenced to suffer eternity in the depths of the ocean, unable to free himself, unable to die. When Will had helped Jack end the curse of the Aztec gold, he assumed he'd ended his father's suffering. Surely Bill, strapped to a cannon at the bottom of the sea, was now at peace.

It was only after that fateful night when Will was captured by Davy Jones and pressed into service that he learned the truth.

Will looked at his father, careworn and broken after so many years of service to Davy Jones, only now beginning to recover a bit of hope and comfort from the presence of his son.

Will said gently, "She died when I was ten. She was strong, but not strong enough. Her life was hard, but she always took care of me."

Bootstrap's blue eyes filled with tears. He blinked and said gruffly, "She was a good woman. She deserved better."

Will nodded sadly, unable to assuage his father's guilt.

"Don't doubt that I loved her, William. I loved her, and I loved you. But it wasn't enough." Bootstrap sighed deeply. "I wasn't the husband she deserved, and I've not been the father you deserve. And if you never forgive me for it, I'll understand."

"I spent most of my life either blaming you, or finding excuses not to blame you. But after everything, there's no point in being bitter. It would only hurt me and hurt you and destroy our relationship."

Bootstrap looked at his son with a ghost of a smile in his eyes. "Aye, we've got the rare opportunity at a second chance. And if ye'll have me as yer father, William, I'll be the best one I can be."


	14. Chapter 14 Delivery

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 14 – Delivery

It was another two months before Will was able to bring the Dutchman back to the waters of the living world. It was nearing the anniversary of the day he was stabbed by Davy Jones, the day he was forced into command of the Dutchman, the day he married Elizabeth. Will was dreading the anniversary. He'd been feeling so much better since learning of baby William's birth, but in recent days, the gloom of his tedious job had begun to creep up on him again. He was therefore understandably relieved to have the chance to surface in the living world and even more relieved to see a rum bottle bobbing on the waves.

As the Dutchman sped toward its target – a shipwreck near Greenland – Will turned the helm over to his father and climbed aloft to read the letter from the bottle alone.

_Dearest Will,_

_I was so glad to receive the little wooden whale that you sent with Jack. I had no idea you had such talent for woodworking, it is beautiful! William seems to love it. He is always holding it and chewing on it. Once his teeth start to come in, I will probably take it away so he does not leave teeth marks all over it. But when he is older, I will give it back as a reminder of his father who loves him so much. I am not sure how much he understands, but every day I take him out at sunset to look at the ocean and tell him that his father is out there thinking about him. And every night when I tuck him in, we say a little prayer for you. Hopefully, as he grows, he will always feel that you are part of his life, even when you are not able to be present._

_William has grown so much in the last month. I shall trace his hand for you at the end of this letter so you can see how big he has become. His hair is dark and curly, and his eyes did turn brown as I predicted. I am not ready to cut his hair yet, but when I do, I will be sure to send you a curl. Although he is dark-haired and brown-eyed like you, it is his smile that reminds me most of you. He tends to be a fairly serious baby, but when he smiles, it is like a sunrise warming my heart._

_I have tried to keep him out of the hot Jamaican sun as much as I can, but in spite of my best efforts, he has already developed a few freckles on his nose. I was cursed with them as a child, and it seems inevitable that he will suffer from them as well. He does hate wearing the big floppy hat that I try to put on him whenever we go out. I should not be surprised that he is so strong-willed and stubborn. With parents like you and I, how could he be otherwise?_

_I have not seen Jack since he left to take you news about William's birth. He sent the whale with Mr. Gibbs, who passed them on to one of my fishing boats. Undoubtedly Jack has some mad scheme on his mind and was too occupied to come himself._

_The fishing business is doing well. My captains are expert seamen, and they have recruited hardworking crews for both boats. We had a little naming ceremony before they left the harbor for the first time. I named them the Swan and the Seagull. I intend to keep a watch out for available boats and add to my fleet as I am able. In time, I may also buy a merchant ship or two to sustain the business when the fishing is not as plentiful. Lucea is not a well-known town and so supplies are sometimes limited, as are opportunities for trade. Having a merchant ship make port here regularly would be quite a boost to the town's economy._

_It may surprise you to hear I have inherited some of my father's civil concern, but it is true. As I have found myself with resources and influence, I find myself feeling obligated to do good for the community. My father told me he was proud of me, and perhaps I am finally living up to his expectations. On the other hand, my habit of socializing with pirates, the poor, and others of an "unsavory" nature would probably appall his sense of "propriety." I still say "hang propriety."_

_I hope you are well and happy. Though I still miss you dreadfully, life has developed a sort of rhythm to which I am becoming accustomed, and I finally feel a bit of peace. I hope you are feeling the same. The day of our reunion seems ever so much closer than it did almost a year ago. I can only imagine that the next nine years will fly by at a rapid pace._

_Please give my regards to Bootstrap._

_Happy Anniversary my love,_

Elizabeth Turner


	15. Chapter 15 One Year

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 15 – One Year

One year… it had been one year since that fateful day near Shipwreck Cove. One year since Elizabeth had become his wife amidst the tumult of battle and the clash of steel. One year since the blade formed by his own hand had pierced his chest. One year since he had been bound to the Dutchman. One year since that golden sunlit day upon the secluded island where he and Elizabeth had shared bittersweet moments that had to last for ten years.

Only nine years more, Will thought. And the thought was more hopeful than gloomy. He had survived a year, it had seemed to pass much quicker than he expected. And the letters from Elizabeth had somewhat sustained him. He heard a quiet footstep behind him and turned from the sea to see his father standing nearby.

"Are you wantin' to be alone? Or might I join you?"

"I thought I'd want to be alone. But I don't." Will shrugged. "I've been dreading this day, but now that it's arrived, it isn't as horrible as I expected." He paused. "It's just one more day."

Bootstrap nodded in agreement. "Aye. One day closer to the day you get to see 'er again." He pulled a bottle – of wine, not rum – from behind his back. "Been savin' this. Thought we might celebrate…"

Will looked at him curiously. "Celebrate?" He asked skeptically.

"Your first year o' marriage. First year o' command. It's a momentous occasion."

Will smiled, an action that had seemed to come more naturally to him recently. "It has been quite a year."

"That it has. You and I, bein' reunited. Your son bein' born. I'd say it's about time we celebrate."

He fished in his jacket pockets and pulled out two small cups. He sat them carefully on the railing and filled them to the tops. He took one for himself and handed the other to Will. Lifting his cup, he said "To Life… To Love.. and to the Sea."

Will lifted his cup as well. "To the Future."

And they drained their cups in one.


	16. Chapter 16 Looking Back

Ten Years at Sea

**Ten Years at Sea**

By S.D.

Chapter 16 – Looking Back

Having been captain of the Flying Dutchman for a year now, Will thought back to those early weeks at the beginning of his command. The beginning had been difficult. His first days as captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ found them very busy collecting the souls of the recent battle between the East India Company and the Pirate Brethren. The _Dutchman_'s crew found themselves helping the very men they'd killed in cold blood only days before. There were Company men and Pirates forcibly joined in death, where they'd never have even spoken to each other in life. Will was quite nervous the first few times he had to address the dead.

"We offer passage to the next world." Will called out to the souls adrift at sea. "Will you sail with us?"

Some souls were eager for assistance, especially those that had been drifting a long time. They were ready to pass on. Others offered a bit more resistance.

"I think I'll take my chances on my own." One proud sailor responded.

Will considered his options. Would Calypso count it against him if he left souls adrift, even if they requested it?

"Friend, the waters at Worlds End are dangerous and confusing if you don't know them well. We can take you safely across."

The sailor was silent. Will could see he was struggling with himself. Maybe just a little more persuasion was necessary. "If you're not ready to cross the horizon, I can offer you a place on my crew."

"For how long?" The sailor asked hesitantly.

_At least we're getting somewhere,_ Will thought. "For as long as you wish. I bind no one with vow or contract. When you're ready to journey onward, you'll be free to do so."

"Aye." The sailor said after a long pause. "I'll sail with you."

Once the dead sailor was aboard, Will spoke with him again. "As I said before, I bind no one with vow or contract, but I do require certain qualities in my crew."

"And what might those be?" The sailor asked, not without a little trepidation.

"Honesty, hard work, and dedication to the duty we perform." Will said sternly. "Our work is important and we don't take it lightly. Do you still offer your service willingly?"

"Aye. I can do that." The sailor seemed relieved. "To be honest, Captain, I was right afraid when I saw your ship. I've heard tales about the ship of the dead that would keep the heartiest man awake at night."

"Some of those tales may have been true, friend. But no longer. Not as long as I'm Captain." The young captain's determination seemed to emanate from him like heat waves.

"Then I'll be pleased to serve under you, sir." The sailor extended his hand, and Will shook it with a sigh of relief.

"Welcome aboard the Flying Dutchman." Will said warmly. "Welcome to the crew."

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UPDATE: I have decided to end this story, and do the other chapters as one-shots. I just don't have the time to put it into long-story form. So be watching for my one-shots, I hope you enjoy them.


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